


shades of blue like me and you

by Marcia Elena (marciaelena)



Category: 9-1-1 (TV)
Genre: First Kiss, First Time, Fluff and Angst, Future Fic, Getting Together, Love Confessions, M/M, POV Eddie Diaz (9-1-1), Post-Episode: s03e03 The Searchers, Romance, They're a Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-24
Updated: 2019-11-24
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:08:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21548872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marciaelena/pseuds/Marcia%20Elena
Summary: It's the one year anniversary of the tsunami and Eddie and Buck and Christopher spend the day at the Santa Monica pier.
Relationships: Christopher Diaz & Eddie Diaz (9-1-1), Evan "Buck" Buckley & Christopher Diaz, Evan "Buck" Buckley & Eddie Diaz & Christopher Diaz, Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz
Comments: 72
Kudos: 669





	shades of blue like me and you

**Author's Note:**

> My first 9-1-1 story. It was supposed to be a drabble about cotton candy kisses and it grew into this.

It's a whole year after the tsunami that could've taken the two most important people in the world from Eddie, a year packed with so many ups and downs that it feels more like half a lifetime's passed instead of only three hundred and sixty-odd days. There's an event taking place on Santa Monica beach, not far from the fully restored pier, part memorial for those who lost their lives and part celebration of those who helped save lives. Eddie and the rest of his team at the 118 have all been approached by local news channels and have politely turned them down; no one's deliberated much on their reasons for declining, but if the looks Bobby's been throwing Eddie's and Buck's way are any indication, it's mostly for their sake. And regardless of how accurate that impression might be, Eddie's grateful. Because he knows beyond question that he and Buck have no interest in reliving that day. They each have their own, vastly different memories of the disaster, but the worst ones all involve Christopher, and that's too personal for them to risk sharing with anyone besides each other. 

It's with surprise and trepidation, then, that Eddie finds himself at the pier on that very day, with Buck and Christopher in tow. If anyone had asked him what he'd be doing on the one year anniversary of the tsunami he would've guessed he'd be either too busy at work to even think about it, or at home hugging his son extra hard. 

"I wanna go," Christopher announces the evening before. Sitting between Eddie and Buck on the Diaz's couch, all three of them have just seen the ad for the next day's ceremonies on TV, the brand new Ferris Wheel prominent in the background. It flashes across the screen faster than Eddie can find the remote. 

"To the beach? Sure," Eddie says. "Sometime soon, okay? We'll make a whole day out of it."

"No," Christopher says. "The pier. I wanna win another bear."

Eddie flicks his gaze toward Buck, finds Buck already looking at him. He's heard all about the jumbo teddy bear that the two of them won that day, lost to the waves like so much else. 

"I promise, mijo." Eddie's gut twists with those words. " We'll go soon."

Christopher tilts his head toward him. "I wanna go tomorrow. You and me and Buck."

"But we're going to the Griffith Observatory tomorrow, buddy. Like you wanted, remember? We're gonna look through the telescopes, see the show in the Planetarium, do all the stuff you've been talking about for weeks."

But the kid is adamant about it; they can go to the Observatory some other time. Eddie wants to insist, but what Christopher says next disarms him of any further objections he could raise. 

"I'm ready, Dad. Can't stay away from the ocean forever."

And so Eddie relents. Not before he and Buck share another weighted look, but he relents. 

Chris seems to have no trouble falling asleep when Eddie and Buck put him to bed. Eddie worries that just the idea of going to the pier in the morning will have his son waking up screaming in the night again. He watches Buck lean over Christopher to press a kiss into his tousled hair. 

"Love you, little man," Buck whispers. The tenderness in his tone does something funny to Eddie's heart. 

They find themselves on the couch then, nursing beers that neither one of them is drinking, in front of whatever late night show that neither one of them is watching. Buck's wearing Eddie's clothes, a faded t-shirt that seems to change hue under the flickering light of the television, a pair of dark sweatpants; he hadn't planned on spending the night, but the visible line of tension in his neck and shoulders when they'd left Christopher to his dreams had Eddie aching for him too, and Eddie had insisted then, saying words like _Evan_ and _please_ and _stay_. 

There's room on the couch. There's always so much room and they're always pressed so close against each other. 

"Maybe he'll change his mind in the morning," Eddie murmurs.

Buck shakes his head. "He won't," he says. "We both know he won't, Eddie. And honestly? The idea of taking Chris back there is making me all kinds of anxious, but I- I'm so proud of him for wanting to go. And I know you wanna keep him as safe as you can, that's all I want too. But we-" Buck huffs, makes an aborted gesture with his hand. "You don't wanna teach him to stay scared. If he says he's ready then you gotta trust that he is."

And Buck's right. Eddie knows he's right. And the night ahead is a long and quiet one, filled with concern but free of nightmares, Eddie mostly awake all alone in his bed and wondering if Buck is awake too all alone on the couch, and morning dawns warm and clear and then they're on their way, only a light breakfast in their stomachs and the day wide open before them.

Here they are, then, all three of them, wearing scars that only they know are there. Two not-so-intrepid firefighters and one incredibly brave little boy. 

Looking out at the ocean with Christopher standing on a bench, Eddie doesn't fail to notice how tightly Buck is holding on to his son. The sky above is an electric blue, the sea below an undulating expanse of bluish-green. But the blue that pierces into Eddie (always) is the color of Buck's eyes.

"The water won't go away again," Christopher's saying. 

It's not a question, but Buck answers it anyway. "It won't, buddy. That big wave that came at us that day? That doesn't happen very often. We could stand here for the rest of our lives and chances are we'd never see one like it again." 

The sky is so, so blue. So bright. That must be why Eddie's vision blurs there for a moment; sometimes there's just too much light. 

They go on half the rides and by midday Eddie's sick of swinging and spinning, but Chris' cheeks are flushed and there's a spring in his step. He laughs at Buck's silly jokes and Eddie can't help but laugh too, amazed at how a day out with his favorite guys can ease even the most deep-seated fears in him. Buck plays Top Glow and then Balloon Bust with Chris and they win not only a giant teddy bear but also an elephant that Chris calls a he and promptly names-

"Ellie Diaz, huh?" Eddie says as Buck all but shoves both plush toys into his arms. "What about the bear, then? What's his name?"

Christopher grins at him, turns his head and grins at Buck too. "Devan Diaz," he says. "They're in love so they got married."

Eddie blinks at that. He looks at Buck, expecting to find amusement on his best friend's face, but Buck averts his gaze and Eddie watches his Adam's apple bob as he gulps, follows the blush that spreads across Buck's cheeks and tints the tips of his ears. Something all too familiar blooms in Eddie's chest, sinks into his belly and settles there. Makes itself at home.

It's not hunger, Eddie knows. It's something much more visceral.

But that's how they end up seated at a picnic table, Eddie alone on his bench and Chris and Buck side by side as they steal each other's crinkle fries. The plush elephant and bear share their own bench, leaning against each other so they won't fall face first onto the ground. 

"Daaad," Christopher says. "I want dessert too."

"The milkshake wasn't dessert?"

The kid gives him a lopsided grin. Buck giggles, and Eddie rolls his eyes. 

"You're not getting any more ice cream, mijo," Eddie tells him. "And I highly doubt you have room in your stomach for those funnel cake abominations."

Buck stands up. "I know just the thing," he says. "You two stay put. Make sure Ellie and Devan don't misbehave."

And with a wink, he's gone. 

A breeze ruffles the awning of the restaurant next to them. The westering sun scatters hints of gold and shards of silver across the ocean. The afternoon sky is a deeper shade of blue. Eddie gets distracted trying to spot Buck among the endless stream of people coming and going around them.

"Dad?" Christopher tries.

"Hmm?" 

"It's okay, you know."

Eddie brings his gaze back to his son. "It's okay?"

"Yeah."

Eddie raises both his eyebrows, and Christopher sighs.

"I love Bucky too, Dad."

Buck, of course, picks that exact moment to rematerialize next to their table. "Uhm," he says. "Here." And he hands Christopher the largest portion of cotton candy that Eddie's ever seen, a rainbow of sticky pastel colors precariously balanced on a stick. "And this one's for you," Buck says, offering Eddie his own cloud of spun sugar. A much smaller one. 

And it's blue. Just like the one that Buck got for himself. 

Eddie opens his mouth to tell Buck all about how much he hates cotton candy. But the look that Buck has in his eyes as he sits down next to Christopher again is vulnerable and expectant and the only thing that Eddie can manage to say is "Thanks."

Watching Christopher and Buck devour their cotton candy with the same childlike enthusiasm has Eddie nibbling on his without complaint. Buck beams a blinding smile at him, and Eddie blames his fluttering heartbeat on the overdose of sugar.

The sun's about to dip into the ocean when they go on their last ride of the day. Christopher's all but nodding off against his father's side in the Ferris Wheel gondola, a warm bundle of happy boy that Eddie never wants to let go of. Buck sits across from them with Chris' plush friends, all five of them silent, streaks of orange mellowing the deepening indigo of the evening sky. Lights burn in clusters further inland, flash and blink below them all over the park and the pier, peter out into the more distant lights of boats spread out across the water. 

Eddie doesn't even notice he's been staring at Buck until Buck says his name. 

"Eddie?" Buck's voice is as soft as his smile. 

Eddie clears his throat. "Sorry," he murmurs. "Tiring day."

"But a good one," Buck says. "Right?"

"The best." Eddie's voice sounds hoarse, straining with things unsaid, but he doesn't try to mask it this time. And as Buck keeps looking at him, Eddie doesn't look away.

The LED lights of the Ferris Wheel wash over Buck in timed bursts of bright and brighter, bringing Eddie's mind back to the night before, Buck next to him on his couch, their thighs and arms touching, not an inch of space between them. And just like that Eddie knows that that's how he wants Buck in his life, always. Right next to him, the only room they can make between them reserved for Christopher. 

The kid is asleep and heavy in Eddie's arms as he and Buck walk back to his truck, the drive home charged with something that Eddie doesn't dare name. Christopher wakes up long enough for a bath and asks for Buck's help, and Eddie lays out the same t-shirt and sweats that Buck wore to sleep the night before next to Christopher's pajamas on the bathroom counter, anticipating Buck's soaked state once he's done bathing Chris. 

Buck's barefoot and wearing Eddie's clothes when Eddie comes into the living room in a similar outfit, and even knowing that Buck didn't have another option sends a thrill up Eddie's spine. The sheets and pillow that Buck used last night are neatly folded and grouped in a pile at one end of the couch; Buck makes no move toward them. 

"Chris asleep yet?"

"Out like a light," Buck whispers. But they head back to Christopher's room all the same. 

Eddie tucks Chris' covers more snuggly around him, says a wordless goodnight to him with a gentle caress. It's instinct that has him reaching for Buck's hand as they walk out into the hallway, instinct and emotion that makes them lace their fingers together and hold on fiercely to each other. 

They stand outside Eddie's bedroom door, everything past the threshold dark, a hush blanketing the house. Buck licks his lips, a nervous tick, and Eddie smiles at the hint of blue dye on Buck's tongue. Their gazes meet and there it is, the blue that pierces straight through Eddie's heart every single time. 

"Buck," Eddie tries. He looks at their still joined hands, their knuckles gone white with the tightness of their grip, as if they're both afraid to let go. He doesn't let go, just raises their hands instead, crowds Buck against the wall as he pins Buck's arm next to his head. "Evan," he whispers. Their chests touch with the rise and fall of their breaths.

Buck's voice is a shivery thing that frissons through Eddie's gut. "Yeah?"

"Stay." Eddie lowers his face into the crook of Buck's neck, brushes his lips against the frantic pulse point there. "Please."

Buck whispers his reply right against Eddie's ear. "You already know I'm staying."

There's room in the hallway. There's always more room, the house, the city, the whole world spreading out in every direction around them, the sky that shifts between every shade of blue and goes on and on until it's not a sky anymore, an infinity of space that Eddie could never comprehend. But the only space between them is the space that they allow. 

They're both shaking. Eddie inhales Buck's warmth, the smell and strength of him, follows the contour of Buck's jaw with an open mouthed almost-kiss. Buck's free hand slides underneath the hem of Eddie's t-shirt, his fingers stroking sparks into Eddie's skin, and Eddie rubs his palm against Buck's arm, presses Buck harder against the wall with his body, their hips slotting together like the last pieces of a puzzle. They lean their foreheads against each other, they breathe each other's air.

"You saved him," Eddie whispers. "You saved my son. You saved me."

"He did the same for me, Eddie. And you," Buck says. "You save me every day."

It's too much. It's too much and not enough and Eddie wants to cry. "Evan," he whispers. A prayer now. "Please stay forever."

"Eddie." Buck's smile is all there for Eddie to hear. "You already know I'm _staying_." 

There's laughter first. Their white-knuckled grip on each other becomes a crushing embrace and they're kissing then, they're kissing, lips and tongues and panting breaths, heat that surges like a tide inside them both, Eddie cradled between Buck's parted legs, safe and found at last. They make their way inside the bedroom without ever letting go and the bed beckons, their bodies beckon and there's not an inch between them, only skin on skin and a love so deep it's like free falling but they hold on. 

They hold on. 

***


End file.
